Sleeping with the Enemy
by Anna de Boullans
Summary: The peasants and merchants of Tortall have revolted, overthrowing their king, butchering their nobles by the hundreds. It is left to a small group of aristocrats, now underground revolutionaries, to take back what is theirs. ON HIATUS
1. In Which All is Explained

**Title:** Sleeping with the Enemy

**Rating:** PG-13

**Warnings:** Some French Revolution-esque stuff, only _sans_ guillotine.  That was way too modern even for the Tortallans.  Blood.  Sex.  Language.  Alcohol.  The usual.

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognize concerning Tortall belongs to Tammy.  Other inspirations were taken from Sandra Gulland's Josephine trilogy (_The Many Lives & Secret Sorrows of Josephine B.; Tales of Passion, Tales of Woe; The Last Great Dance on Earth_), Charles Dickens' _A Tale of Two Cities_, and the film _The Affair of the Necklace_ (starring Hilary Swank, Adrien Brody, and Christopher Walken, among others).  

**Summary:** The peasants and merchants of Tortall have revolted, overthrowing their king, butchering their nobles by the hundreds.  It is left to a small group of aristocrats, now underground revolutionaries, to take back what is theirs.

**A/N:** Unlike any other story I've ever written, that's for sure.  Recently, I have found two new heroines to add to my ever-growing list: the Vicomtesse de Beauharnais (aka Josephine Bonaparte), and the Comtesse de la Motte Valois.  Their incredible stories have inspired me to write this tale of life, love, and undying passion in a time of civil unrest and great social change.   Enjoy, _mes amis!_

In Which All is Explained

            _I remember it all so clearly, though a year has passed since that terrible time.  The Midwinter of Blood, they now call it, when the commoners of Tortall stormed the royal palace and overthrew His Majesty the king.  They killed Jonathan IV and his beautiful queen Thayet along with their greatest supporters: the duke and duchess of Naxen, the baron and baroness of Pirate's Swoop, the mage Numair Salamin and his pregnant fiancée Daine, Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and his wife.  The duke of Queenscove and Lord haMinch were next, along with their wives and the count and countess of King's Reach.  More followed.  Cavall, Mindelan, Olau, I could go on forever.  These people were mercifully beheaded, but our wonderful king and his friends were burned while their families watched._

_            My parents were killed as well, along with my older brother, but I was spared to live a life of misery, shouldering the burden of three younger sisters and a brother at the age of sixteen.  I had once known the life of a privileged debutante, betrothed to one of the greatest catches of the Season, and now I found myself impoverished and bitter.  There were no more nobles in Tortall, just a National Assembly made up of commoners.  Even the rich merchants had turned against us, for they were greatly aggravated by the condescending attitudes the aristocrats had towards them.  Tortall has fallen far, and no countries will help us.  Empress Kalasin of Carthak, herself a Conté, can do nothing for us.  Although it was rumored she wept for three straight days when she heard of the death of her parents, brother Roald, and sister-in-law, still no sign of contact._

_            Part of me still yearns most painfully for that carefree life I once knew, but I also realize that that time is over for me, and I must move on and face every day with bravery and fortitude.  After all, I am one of the lucky ones.  I was spared the wrath of the Revolution._

            Snow fell lightly on Cecila's upturned face as she lugged an armload of firewood towards the small house she shared with four other people.  They were orphans now, no one to take care of them, but she had made quite a good amount of gold nobles by selling some of her old gowns, hard as it had been to part with them.  She knew it was wicked, but she had kept five of them for memory's sake.  Lovely they all were, though more than likely out of style now.  Not that it mattered, for the fashionable ladies of Corus were now uneducated common scum, and she, the daughter of a family in the _Book of Gold_, was nothing but a peasant.

            Indeed, Lady Cecila of Althol was a changed woman.  Never before in her privileged existence had she actually had to clean, cook, or milk a cow.  Nor did she have to take on the role of surrogate mother to her four younger siblings, being at the diffucult ages of six, nine, ten, and fourteen.  Gwendolyn, the next oldest, was a great help, as was eleven-year-old Elara.  Following her was Marco, the only boy, who was took it upon himself to be the man of the house and give orders, not follow them.  Poor little Meris did not understand where all their servants had gone, and why they no longer lived in a large, beautiful castle.  They now inhabited a tiny house on the edge of what had been their expansive country estate, granted to them so generously by the Assembly.

            She cursed them all, these heartless men who had taken her family and her happiness.  As she ran down the list of the Assembly leaders, a rider on horseback rode into the small front yard and dismounted.  It was Marius of Bocton, her former betrothed, looking haggard and sick.

            "Marius!" she cried, dropping the wood and running to him.  As she embraced him tightly, tears fell down her cheeks.  "Thank the gods!  I feared you were..."

            He kissed her tears away, unaware that he was crying as well.  "They let more people out last week.  Many more."  He shuddered, trying not to remember the horrors of prison.

            Not wanting to dwell on horrible memories of her dank, cold cell, she pressed him for information.  "Who else is out?"

            "Lady Yukimi, Neal of Queenscove's wife, although he's still in there.  Princess Lianne and Prince Jasson, although their brother Liam was detained 'for further questioning.'  They mean for further torture.  They've killed so many, including the two oldest Naxen girls and Thom of Pirate's Swoop."  He furrowed his brow, trying to remember others.  "Lady Alianne came out with me but her twin brother stays, the youngest Naxen girl was let out, her two remaining sisters are still held.  Keladry of Mindelan is out, but all of her brothers were executed.  Lady Adalia of Nond, her sister, almost died of pneumonia, so they released her.  Cleon of Kennan was executed in the first round.  Wyldon of Cavall's daughters are free now, and that's all I can think of."

            Cecila looked away, biting her lip.  Roxana of Naxen and Thom had both been good friends, and she had also known Roxana's sister Iona quite well.  And poor Yuki, cruelly separated from her husband, not knowing if he were to die or not.  She knelt to pick up the pieces of wood she had dropped, just so she could distract herself from the humming in her ears that grew louder with every second.  "Forgive my manners," she said quietly.  "Do come inside, my lord."

            Right before they walked in through the door, he grabbed her elbow, holding her back.  "I want you to know that my offer of marriage still stands, Cecila.  Prison has changed nothing between us."

            She smiled sadly.  "I do thank you for your generosity, Marius, but I'm not a charity case."  She walked inside, leaving him puzzled in the doorway.

            "That's not what I meant!" he exclaimed as he entered the tiny kitchen.  "It's not like I have anything but the clothes on my back either."  He knelt down next to little Meris, playing with dolls Elara had made for her out of twigs and twine.  She looked back up at him frankly, her blue eyes serious.  "Hello, Meris," he began.  "What's that you're playing with?"

            She blinked.  "My dolls.  Elara said my old ones were lost, so she made me new ones.  They're not as pretty, but I like them."

            Marius looked back up at Cecila, a painful look in his eyes.  "I'll get your dolls back," he promised the little girl.  He looked over her head to where Gwendolyn was trying unsuccessfully to start a fire.  "Stop," he ordered, and then used his Gift to do it for her.  She smiled and brushed her dark blonde hair out of her eyes; she had always been a little in love with her sister's fiancé.

            Marco ran in from where he had been chopping wood and jumped almost a foot.  "It's Marius!" he shouted.  "You're alive!  When did they let you out?"

            "Stop pestering him, Marco," Cecila scolded.  "Gwendolyn, we'll need an extra place at the table for my lord Marius.  Elara, Meris, and Marco, go wash your hands for dinner.  _Now_."

            Five minutes later, the six of them sat down at the table in the next room over that doubled as the younger children's bedroom.  Gwen and Cecila slept in the drafty loft above them, suffering from severe cold and wetness.  They all ate their soup slowly, as if savoring every spoonful; quite a change from the multiple-course meals they had been accustomed to all their lives.  Once they were finished, the children ran out to play in the snow before it became too dark.  Gwen followed, shooting her older sister a significant look, to which Cecila wrinkled her nose.

            "Listen," Marius began, "I came here for a reason.  I've found a priest who will marry us.   No, don't protest.  When our father's signed the contract, you became a member of my family.  Now that I am the count of Bocton, I am the head of the family, and therefore you must follow my wishes.  He is coming tomorrow."

            She sighed.  "It's not that I don't _want_ to marry you, it's just now really isn't the time.  I can't leave my brother and sisters out in the cold, and it would be too much to ask you to take them in."

            He smiled.  "Don't worry about that; I've got everything taken care of!"  He leaned in closer to her, as if he didn't want to be overheard.  "There is a house in Corus that we can move into in the spring, a large one, used to belong to the Nond family.  It was sold to a priestess of the Goddess, a Royalist sympathizer, who in turn has handed it over to myself and a few other nobles.  Things will progress from there..."

            "What d'you mean, 'things will progress from there'?"  She scowled suspiciously.    
"And Corus?  Don't you think that's a bit rash, given as we're all being watched somehow?"

            He kissed her cheek gently.  "Don't worry, darling, all will reveal itself in time.  Really, it's nothing of consequence right now."

            True to his word, the priest showed up early the next morning, and Marius and Cecila were married in a simple, rather hasty ceremony, rather than the large and lavish wedding they were to have had the past June.  She was now Countess of Bocton, though it mattered none in the new society.  Although she never said it out loud, she was glad of his presence in their lives during those bitterly cold winter months.  On Gwen's fifteenth birthday, he sculpted a large gift box out of snow with the help of Meris and Elara.  He began giving Marco fencing lessons to make up for the fact that he wouldn't begin his training as a page that fall.

            When the snows melted and the ground had thawed (somewhat), they packed up what few belongings they had (including the gowns), piled them on the back of the old mare, and began the long walk to Corus.  Marius kept them all entertained by regaling them with stories of the ridiculous things he had done with his brothers as a boy.  When they arrived at the gates of the city, he lied to the guards flawlessly.

            "I am Marius Thatcher from the hill country, with me are my wife and our children."

            One of the men frowned at Cecila.  "They look awfully old to be yours, Citizenne."

            She gave him a breathtaking smile and shrugged, tightening her grip on the horse's reins.  "I have been told by many that I look young, but alas I am already twenty-nine.  My oldest is only thirteen."  She kept eye contact with the man.  "I, like you, Citizen, am blessed with seemingly eternal youth."

            The guardsman blushed and waved them through.  Once they were safely in the marketplace, Marius hissed, "I didn't know you could lie like that, _Citizenne_."

            She smiled innocently at him.  "I can do many things you don't know about, Citizen _Thatcher_.  Lying is merely one of them."

            They meandered their way through the Lower City, finally reaching the temple district, and the neighborhood where Nond House was.  "We have to go around the back," he whispered to all of them.  "Remember, we've been hired as servants by the priestess, if anyone asks."

            Meris gripped Cecila's hand rather tightly as they walked around to one of the many walled gardens around the house.  Luckily, no guards were in sight, so they were able to slip in unnoticed by anyone.  They pulled the saddlebags down, and Marius let the horse to be stabled, while they walked into the house very quietly.

            "Gwendolyn!" a voice shrieked, and someone came running down the hall at breathtaking speed.

            Gwen squealed, and ran to embrace Kassandra of Naxen, whom she had not seen since they had been at the convent together.  It appeared the mansion was somewhat of a haven for homeless, parentless nobles.  The two girls ran off, followed quickly by Elara and Marco.  "Cecila?  Is it really you?"

            She spun around to face two of her oldest friends from court.  But as she was walking to embrace them, she stopped at the dead, heartbreaking look in their eyes.  Alianne at least managed a smile as she hugged her tightly, but Princess Lianne couldn't bring herself to it.  She bit her lip as she thought of words of comfort to offer; both had seen their parents burn, and then their oldest brothers beheaded.  And they both had brothers still in prison, hanging onto life by a thread, high on the list of the nobles the Assembly wanted out of the way.  Aly was alone in the world but for her twin, but Lianne at least had Jasson.  It broke her heart to see the two prettiest and liveliest girls at court orphaned, impoverished, and practically broken.

            "Look at us now," Lianne said, reading her mind, "wearing gowns that are a year-and-a-half out of date, our hair shamelessly down, and looking like the world just ended.  Oh wait, I forgot, it did."  She looked away.  "I'm sorry, I must be more cheerful.  At least I'm alive, right?"  A tear slid down her cheek.  "Roald and Shinko weren't as lucky..."

            "Is it true that you and Marius were married?" Aly asked quickly, with a panicked look towards the princess.  "That's what _everyone_ has been saying, but we were never quite sure."

            Cecila smiled and nodded.  "I wish you all could have been there.  I wish..."  She was about to say she wished it could have been a full-fledged court affair, but that wouldn't have been tactful in the least.  "I wish it could have been in a warmer month," she finished hastily, although they both understood what she meant to say.  They were silent for a few moments, letting the reality of their situation sink in.

            "Come," Lianne said suddenly.  She reached out for Meris's hand and smiled at Cecila.  "Let us go have some tea and catch up, shall we?" 


	2. In Which Liam Returns

In Which Liam Returns

            _I am still haunted by bloody nightmares of those long, terror-filled days, their clarity eerie.  The most frequent one is this...  It is just after Midwinter.  The large square in the city in the middle of the Temple District seemed as if its snowy ground were painted red, the high scaffold a chilling reminder of our fate.  I watch from my cell as our beautiful Queen Thayet sobs violently as she learns that her son has been proclaimed guilty of treason by the courts.  How can they convict Roald of such a crime when he is heir to the throne?  His father was convicted on the same charges; how can he have been treasonous against himself?  We mutter darkly amongst ourselves, for if the king is not safe, no one is._

_            I look up and meet the queen's gaze, and she stops crying immediately.  "Cecila," she whispers in a strangely hoarse voice, "Cecila."  She says my name over and over again._

_            I am plagued by such dreams, and I fear the gods are sending me a message.  "Fight back, Cecila," they are telling me.  "Rebel."  I am not the rebellious sort, and I fear the wrath of the scaffold.  Last night, however, the god of dreams sent me the worst of all...I dreamt of how it all came about._

_            We were dining in one of the larger banquet halls in the palace, everyone dressed in their finest for the Midwinter feast.  I sat at a table with other young noblewomen such as myself, waiting rather impatiently for the ball that would follow.  We talked about nothing of consequence, fashion, the Tusaine ambassador's handsome son, so-and-so being caught with so-and-so in the library last week.  Lady Katarene of Naxen, the prime minister's third daughter and notorious for flirting unsuccessfully with Marius, was going on and on about her new gown, which looked horrible on her.  Alianne wrinkled her nose and shook her head vehemently, causing the rest of us to laugh.  When Katerene turned to her neighbor to see what was the cause of all the amusement, Aly smiled sweetly and lied, "It's the prettiest dress I've seen all season."_

_            So the night went on, our table blissfully unaware of the guards who kept running in and whispering urgently in the king's ear.  When Jonathan stood and actually followed the man out of the room, everyone fell silent.  We all had heard about the little pockets of unrest in our country, and I had heard from my brothers about the secret underground movement that preached democracy and equal representation, an end to monarchy and feudalism.  No one had ever thought they would reach Corus.  We were safe here in the palace, safe from whatever evil might be stirring outside._

_            The king rushed back in and up to the top table.  He spoke quickly to his prime minister Gareth of Naxen, who then began conferencing with his father the duke and the baron of Pirate's Swoop.  Aly watched her father apprehensively for a few moments before turning back to me and shrugging.  It began to spread slowly through the room that the peasants were marching through the streets of the city towards the palace, aided by soldiers of the army.  Jonathan swept out of the room, followed closely by his advisors and a small retinue of guards, leaving the rest of us to sit and wonder._

_            We were given orders to remain in the hall, until further notice for our own safety, and gradually people were starting to panic.  Lady Cythera of Naxen was beginning to show signs of a full-fledged nervous breakdown before her daughters and the queen could calm her down, and even the normally cool-headed Princess Lianne was pacing, muttering nervously to herself.  "What's that?" Aly suddenly asked, causing everyone to stop and look at her.  "Don't you hear it?"_

_            We strained our ears to listen, and yes, we heard it.  The fervent shouting of the mob advancing on the palace.  We had none but the Palace Guard and the King's Own to defend us against a crowd that was rumored to number over a hundred thousand.  "We're doomed," I whispered.  "They're going to kill us."_

_            Lady Adalia of Nond, sister to the infamous Keladry of Mindelan, frowned at me.  "Oh, Cecila, it's not like they'll actually be able to get in.  His Majesty will be most busy with all the execution warrants he'll have to sign soon."_

_            "Oh, could you be any more foolish?" Aly snapped, her famous temper starting to show at last.  "There are a hundred thousand of them, not to mention the servants in here who certainly aren't on our side.  Even the army marches against us.  Do you honestly think we stand a chance?"  Although her voice was steady, fear was apparent in her wide violet eyes._

_            She was right.  It was only a matter of minutes before the commoners stormed the palace, heavily armed and ready to kill.  They slaughtered those who fought back, while the rest of us watched, trying not to vomit.  When they cut down my cousin Lucas of Denliev, I used all my strength to keep Aly from running to him.  "Do you want to die?" I hissed.  "He'll live, it's not a fatal wound."  She glared at me for a moment before focusing again on Lucas, the handsome young knight to whom she had lost her heart, and Katerene's fiancé._

_            We stayed hidden with several other young ladies until they had taken the castle, and the fighting stopped.  We were found and promptly arrested on the charges of treason against the realm of Tortall.  Our trials would be held at a later, unknown date._

            A week after their arrival, Cecila found herself staring into a mirror, frowning at the familiar reflection.  Long reddish-brown hair, large gray eyes, small nose, corners of her mouth turned slightly upward, pale skin.  So unlike her blue-eyed, dark blond, golden-skinned siblings, she took greatly after her mother.  Behind her, Lianne sat embroidering a tapestry, a project started by one of the Nond ladies, and never finished, cut short by a bloody revolution.  "You always were vain," she remarked without looking up from her work, "staring at yourself for hours on end.  I see poverty hasn't changed that."

            She spun around to face the princess and frowned.  "I'm not _vain_, it's just it's been so long since I've been able to just look at myself in the mirror.  We didn't exactly have that luxury in prison, and I've spent the previous months living in a hovel.  It was miserable."

            "Gods, don't remind me," Lianne whispered, closing her eyes.  She shuddered and put the tapestry down, looking up at her friend with a strange expression.  "I've been trying for a year now to get those screams out of my head.  I see it in my dreams almost every single night."  She bit her lip and looked away; like Cecila, lost in the memory.

            It was a blustery February day, windy and cold, but at least the snow had finally ceased.  There was a great deal of excitement in the city as people gathered near the site of executions hours in advance, all of them with a morbid sort of curiosity driving them to watch the horrific deaths that were to come.  Several aristocrats had already been executed, including the dowager duchess of Naxen and the earl of Legann, but today was far more eventful.  The scaffold had been dismantled, in its place was a circle of poles, all with a large pile of firewood and tree branches at the base.  Fire would purge the supposed sins of the common people's greatest advocates.

            One side of the square was reserved for the imprisoned aristocrats to witness this act of warning by the National Assembly.  The commoners were cheering and rowdy, the nobles ashen-faced and silent as the condemned were led out under guard and tied securely to the stakes.  Cecila gripped her mother's hand as tears ran down her face; she was witnessing the _execution_ of her _king_.  The thought was almost absurd.  The charges against them were read again, as they were at the ridiculous excuse for a trial that had taken place earlier in the week.  Roald, the handsome crown prince, stood with his foreign wife, pale-faced and shaking as he watched his mother's stony, unemotional face while the ropes binding her were checked once again.

            Ten men with torches came forward and stood in front of a stake, waiting for the order.  When one of the new government leaders gestured with his hand, they lit the piles in perfect synchronization, giving an ironic full court bow to whomever it was in front of them.  Smoke began to rise almost immediately, although it had been made sure that the wood was very dry so that the deaths would be as painful and drawn-out as possible.  Cecila looked over to where Aly stood, practically leaning on her two brothers.  Katerene of Naxen gripped Alan's other arm, her long nails surely digging unnoticed into his flesh.

            Daine, the Wildmage, let out a fearful cry as her skirt caught on fire.  "Great Mother, what has she done to deserve this?" a woman near them whispered.

           "What have any of them done?" her neighbor replied in a horrified voice.  "Those poor children.  They shouldn't be here, that's just inhumane."

            The commoners, once jubilant, now fell silent as the smell of burning flesh filled the crisp winter air.  Alanna the Lioness bit her lip, trying not to cry out, as many of the others were doing, including her husband and the king.  The duchess of Naxen was blessed by the gods; she had obviously fainted.

            Cecila turned away, burying her face in her father's shoulder, not wanting to watch, but that didn't keep the screams from her ears.  Her brother gasped.  "Mithros, what's she doing?"

            She looked up to the front of the crown where a sobbing Lianne and Roxana of Naxen were trying to hold back Roxana's younger sister Iona.  "No!" she shrieked.  "Nooooo!  Mother!  Papa!  Let them go!"  

            "Princess?"  Cecila and Lianne jumped, both of them returning to the present, where a curious-looking Marius hovered in the doorway.  "They've released your brother Liam."

            She smiled weakly.  "Thank the gods.  Is he here?"

            "In the second-floor parlor with Jasson and the lady Alianne."  Marius was characteristically formal concerning Aly; his parents had been avid conservatives at the court, and political enemies of her parents.  Although his own convictions were much more liberal than their own, somewhat of a chilly aura existed between the two, which made for a good deal of rather uncomfortable situations over the past week.

            The three of them walked silently together down the two flights of stairs, Lianne running down the final hallway and into her older brother's arms.  "Liam!" she squealed.

            Easily the best-looking of the Contés and located in the exact middle of his siblings, the prince was good-natured and witty, with a mischievous streak and a knack for getting into trouble.  Before the Revolution, he had been known as a horrible flirt and an excellent horseman, conquering the hardest of the riding trails with a natural ease and a slightly show-offy attitude.  For all of his _amourettes_, it was palace legend that the object of his desires was the one girl not interested in him: Aly.

            But things had changed, and this was no casual afternoon gathering of friends to plot out the evening's amusements.  Liam was pale and sickly, frightfully skinny, and dressed in a plain tunic and breeches.  Cecila gave him a swift but firm hug and immediately stepped aside.  Although she had always moved in high-ranking circles, these people had agendas much different than her own.

            "Countess of Bocton," Liam drawled, giving her his signature grin.  "I see things have changed since our last farewell, my dearest Cecila.  How are your wonderfully adorable brother and sisters?"

            She shrugged.  "As well as they can be, I suppose, what with everything transpiring at the moment.  It's hard trying to explain everything to Meris, when she doesn't really understand the gravity of everything.  And Marco is taking our change in station rather hard, I'm afraid."

            "From a celebrated heir to practically an outlaw," he mused.  "Quite a change for a nine-year-old.  And I'm afraid I must bring you even more bad news...your cousin Lucas of Denliev is dead of fever."  His eyes flicked over to Aly for a moment to gauge her reaaction before returning to Cecila.  "I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you."

            Marius shook his head.  "We already knew about Lucas, and everyone else.  How was Katerene when you left?"

            "Well, she wasn't hallucinating anymore, which is a substantial improvement.  I had it under good authority that they're preparing to release her, along with a few others who've just recovered from the illness."

            "And my brother?" Aly asked suddenly.  "Was he one of them?"

            Liam looked at her sadly.  "There is a slight chance, although it is a slim one.  Speaking of which, we had an interesting conversation before I left."

            Marius pulled on Cecila's sleeve gently and motioned for her and Jasson to step back.  He put a finger to his lips, warning them both to keep their mouths shut.  Lianne was already next to him, her eyes slightly worried.

            "You did, did you?  And, pray tell, does this 'interesting conversation' have anything to do with me?"

            "Alan is greatly concerned for your welfare.  Now that your parents and Thom are dead, gods rest their souls, he is legally responsible for you, and he wants to make sure that you're safe."

            Aly scowled suspiciously, not liking the direction this conversation was going.  "As you can see, I'm quite safe in here with everyone else.  He shouldn't worry so much about me; it's not like I have many chances to endanger myself."

            Liam rolled his eyes to the ceiling.  "I know perfectly well that you are capable of taking care of yourself, but don't be mad.  He asked that I...take care of you."

            "Well," she began slowly, "that statement has two connotations, none of which I particularly like, although one is much more preferable to the other.  I assume he was talking about the more respectable option.  Am I correct?"  She sighed heavily.  "Lucas is dead, what does it matter?  Fine, yes, I concede.  I'll do it, and I promise I won't put up a fight or make it difficult for you.  Or, at least, I'll try not to."

            "You're..."

            "...smarter than you give me credit for?" she finished, her voice slightly dead.  "I get that a lot."  She gave a slightly wry smile.  "If I were stupid and hopelessly romantic, I'd say no, just out of respect for Lucas, but I'm not, and my brother technically can order me to.  I'd rather not give him that satisfaction.  Besides, I've always wanted to be a princess."  With that, she swept out of the room, her head held high.

            "But a princess of what?" Lianne asked no one in particular.  Marius and Jasson exchanged a significant look.

            Liam cleared his throat.  "Ladies, would you excuse us?"

           Crown Prince Liam of Conté was married the next morning in a ceremony that was short and to the point.  His new wife, a frowning Crown Princess Alianne, spent the remainder of the day practically sulking in the count of Bocton's bedchamber, hiding from her husband with the countess and her sister-in-law.

            Evening had fallen.  Cecila and Lianne looked on sympathetically as their once smiling and happy friend curled up on the bed and buried her face in the pillows.  She sat up.  "If my parents were alive, they never would have allowed this."

            Cecila raised her eyebrows.  "Why ever not?"

            "Because Liam's a _rake_," she whined.  "No offense, Lianne, but your brother really is a womanizer."

            "None taken."

            Gwendolyn and Kassandra burst in, their faces pink from racing up the stairs.  Although flustered, they curtseyed impeccably to the two princesses and their older sister.  "Your Highness," Gwen piped up, "the crown prince demands your presence."

            Aly wrinkled her nose.  "Damn.  Well, it's not like I could avoid him forever, is it?  And so I go, tired and miserable, off to my long-awaited wedding night.  Kill me now."  She followed Gwen and Kassandra out the door and shut it softly behind her.

            Lianne sighed.  "I feel bad.  Not only was she forced into all of this, but now she's got to live with all the perogatives that come with being his wife in a tumultuous time.  I mean, she thinks of Liam as her brother, not someone like..."

            "...Lucas?" Cecila finished quietly.  "This Revolution has caused us all to make sacrifices, and if we ever succeed in regaining the throne, Aly will be a queen.  It's not _so_ horrible of a situation."

            "I suppose."  The princess was silent for a few minutes.  "Well, there's no point in dwelling on it.  What's done is done, and I'm positively _starving_.  Let's go eat dinner."


	3. In Which Dangers Arise

In Which Dangers Arise

            _Although my bad dreams were coming less often, they were still an irksome presence in my life.  I saw old family members and friends being led up the stairs to the scaffold, about to give their lives for their beloved--and dead--king.  The past might have been frightening, but the uncertain future was even more so.  Those were dark, dark days in Nond House: we were very afraid of what we did not know._

_            We are in grave danger, I can feel it._

            Cecila blinked her eyes against the bright sunlight streaming in through the window.  Marius had obviously opened the curtains to wake her up, and she burrowed more into the covers.  Three months had passed since their move to Nond House, and they all had settled into an almost comfortable little routine.

            She dragged herself reluctantly out of bed and grabbed her brocade dressing gown.  She was just reaching out to turn the doorknob when Aly rushed in, her face green and miserable.  "I'm beginning to think I'm not really pregnant," she announced gravely as she gazed out the window.  "Maybe I just have some horrid illness where I'm sick in the mornings, and I'm going to die tomorrow.  I mean, it's been a month and a half, and my stomach is still practically flat!"

            "And you're complaining about that?"

            She scowled.  "I'm crown princess of Tortall now, Cecila.  Women like me are beheaded for false pregnancies.  I have a right to be worried, don't I?  This is my child we're talking about, after all."

            Cecila marveled at the almost miraculous turnaround in her friend's attitude.  When she had discovered the fact that she was pregnant only mere weeks after her wedding, she had broken down sobbing, inconsolable for several hours.  Liam, however, had reacted like a typical man: swaggering, boasting, his head swelling with pride.  "Well, that didn't take long," his brother had remarked with a slight snicker.

            As the weeks passed, the crown prince grew more and more protective of his young wife.  Although she refused to admit it, Aly loved all the attention lavished on her at all times.

            "I need to get out of this house," she said suddenly.  "Can we go to the market, dressed like servants?  If we're careful, no one will notice us."  She didn't wait for an answer, instead practically skipping out the door and down the hallway.  Cecila sighed, exasperated with her friend's incredible mood swings, and shut her bedroom door behind her.  If Aly wanted to get out of the house, no one was going to stop her, and she might as well go along for the fun of it.

            "Look, silks from the Copper Isles!" Jasson pointed out as the three of them, dressed very plainly, made their way through the marketplace.  He had insisted upon escorting them; as the youngest prince, he would hardly be recognizable by most of the commoners.

            Aly reached out and fingered a bolt of cloth of gold.  "Lovely.  It's nice to see good fabrics again."

            Cecila nodded in agreement as she paid for the bolt of taffeta, but elbowed her friend in warning.  Even the vendors had watchful eyes and ears, and they were already looking suspiciously at the prince's jet-black hair and his sister-in-law's large violet eyes.  "Come along," she ordered them loudly.  "You know the master will be angry if we're late again."

            "What was that for?"

            "That was to keep us from being arrested," she hissed back.  "This is too dangerous; we should go back now.  Too many people are taking notice of us."

            "We're not _that_ obvious," Aly whispered indignantly.

            Jasson grabbed their arms suddenly and pulled them into a back alley.  "Yes, we are obvious.  Look there."  Cecila paled at the sight of two of the cloth merchants talking to two armed soldiers, pointing in their direction.  She turned and began to walk calmly in the opposite direction.  "Come on, let's go.  _Now_."

            She gasped, shocked to see that the end of the alley was suddenly blocked off by two men in dark clothing.  She spun around to see that there were three more cutting off their escape.  Jasson cursed under his breath and brought out his sword.  "I can't hold them all off by myself, you know," he complained.

            "Relax."  Aly's hands were now holding two very sharp-looking daggers.  She glared at the men around them.  "Even those Assembly bastards won't stand for thieves in their city."

            A thief bowed mockingly and gave her an innocent shrug.  "We're just tryin' to make a livin', my lady.  Now just put the knives away and maybe we'll talk."

            "Over my dead body."  She shifted her position, settling into a fighter's crouch.  "Come and get it, you son of a bitch."  She stood back-to-back with Jasson, both of them watching the thieves warily from either direction.  Cecila backed off, thankfully unnoticed by everyone.

            "Little vixen's got quite a mouth on 'er, eh, gentlemen?"  He shook his head.  "Like ye'd know how to use weapons like those."

            "Why don't you come over here and find out?" she shot back, her voice pure acid.  This was a very different Aly from the laughing, flirtatious girl she presented to the rest of the world.  "I think you will find yourself unpleasantly surprised."

            The thief lunged, trying to draw her into a fight, but she refused to be tricked.  "I'm not as stupid as you think."

            "Now there's a shocker," one of the other ones jibed, leering.  "It's not like ye'll do any damage to any of us anyway.  Ye're naught but a child."

            Jasson shifted uncomfortably.  "Do something," he hissed.

            "Why're you looking at me?" Aly snapped back, before turning back to the thieves.  "You know what, you're right.  I'm not going to do any damage today, but not because I'm only a child."  She handed Cecila the knives and walked casually towards the two thieves in front of her.  "Thank you for positively boring me out of my mind, gentlemen."

            They looked at each other, confused.  She took the opportunity and punched each of them in the low stomach, hard enough so that they keeled over.  "Run!" she shouted, Jasson and Cecila hot on her heels.  They all but sprinted back to Nond House, doubling back a few times so that they were positive they wouldn't be followed.  Once inside the garden, they collapsed on top of each other, gasping for breath.

            "They weren't thieves," Marius said, leaning back in his chair.  The five of them were holding a small conference in the former study, discussing the events of the afternoon.

            Liam looked up from where he was fussing over his wife.  "What do you mean, they weren't thieves?"

            "He's right," Cecila agreed.  "If they were, they would have just taken our money and ran, but they didn't.  Instead, they stalled around for time.  They were hired by someone to kill us."

            "Assassins?  But we were _released_ from prison!"

            She sighed.  "That doesn't mean the government doesn't still want us dead, Jasson.  We're a threat to them whether in shackles or not.  But they couldn't kill all of us, or else the citizens would accuse them of being no better than we once were, blood-stained butchers.  At the moment, the government is between a rock and a hard place with nowhere to go."

            "The economy hasn't risen enough," her husband added flatly.  "The Assembly isn't able to deliver everything they promised to.  After all, people are still starving.  More so than they were _before_ the Revolution.  Just because this country has rid itself of a monarchy doesn't mean things are going to miraculously get better, and the people were expecting that.  Most of them don't understand how economies work, and they're uneducated.  They bought everything those rebel scum gave them, because they were impressed by big words and even bigger promises.  And now they've got to face the music."

            Aly looked up from where she sat near the window.  "Are you saying we do exactly what they did, manipulate the masses into following us and overthrowing the Assembly?  That's insanity, Bocton."

            Marius shrugged.  "It's worth a shot, isn't it?  We can beat them at their own game; besides, we all grew up at court, we're masters at exploitation and deceit.  Why are you complaining?  If all turns out as planned, you'll be a queen."

            "I'd rather have my family back," she snapped.  "And if I _do_ do this, it's for them, not for a stupid title."

            "We'd _all_ like our families back, but it's not going to happen."  Liam put his hand reassuringly on her arm.  "Listen, I'd rather you not distress yourself.  You've had enough excitement for one day."

            She threw her hands up in the air, admitting temporary defeat.  "Fine, I'll go rest.  But just because I'm pregnant doesn't suddenly mean I'm going to break if you push me too hard."  She slammed the door indignantly behind her.

            Jasson glanced at his brother.  "How do we go about doing this?  I mean, won't the Assembly somehow get wind of our plans?"

            "Send a letter to your sister in Carthak," Cecila said quietly.  "Explain the situation.  I'm sure Kalasin will be able to do _something_.  And we can perhaps get help from the Yamanis, since Princess Shinkokami and Lady Haname were both killed by the rebels.  Doubtless they have grieving relatives who want revenge now."

            "We probably have more support amongst the common people than we would imagine," Marius added.  "I've gathered in the last few months that they're now feeling like they bit off more than they could chew."

            Cecila found Lianne sitting in the walled garden reading a book, while Gwen and Marco were mock-fencing with tree branches, Meris happily cheering them on.  Her friend didn't even look up, but said brightly, "Lovely day.  How was the market?"

            "Gwen, Marco, take your sister inside.  I believe there's a small fencing gallery in the basement with foils that you can use.  Just make sure you don't do something ridiculous and kill yourselves."

            Lianne raised her eyebrows as they left at a run.  "That bad?"

            "It was perfectly fine until we were cornered by five assassins in an alley," she retorted, trying to keep her voice light.

            Her remark was met with silence as the princess contemplated the gravity of what had just been said.  Someone knew about them, and probably where they were living as well.  "It's no longer safe here," she whispered after a long pause.  "We need to leave before someone _really_ gets hurt."

            Cecila looked up to see Liam standing behind his sister and jumped.  He could have been there the entire time and they wouldn't have known, so silent was his entrance.  He nodded.  "Corus is no longer safe, but where else do we go now?  All of our homes have been seized by the government, and we have to stay together."

            His sister craned her neck and looked up at him with a frown on her face.  "Why do we have to stay together?  Aren't we more conspicuous as a large group?"

            "Because," said Marius as he sat down next to her, "safety in numbers, or did you never learn that, Highness?"  He turned his attention to the prince.  "Who are they letting out today?  I heard it was a large number."

            Liam bit his lip and appeared to be thinking hard about it.  "Katerene of Naxen and her sister Mariana, a few of the lesser nobles, perhaps Faleron of King's Reach, Lady Yukimi."

            "Fal will help us!" Cecila exclaimed, perking up, then slumping back down.  "Did you say Katerene of Naxen?  Oh, gods help us."

            Liam and Marius walked away, talking quietly to each other, and went inside, leaving the two women in the garden by themselves.  Silence stretched between them until Lianne finally rose and walked inside, giving some vague excuse about the tapestry she was working on.

            Later that afternoon, Cecila sat in one of the sitting rooms, staring at Katerne of Naxen warily.  The duke's third daughter returned the look with one of her own that was quite possibly more malevolent.  Sixteen-year-old Mariana was engaged in a joyful reunion with Kassandra, and both were oblivious to the tension in the room.  Of the duke and duchess's five daughters, Katerne was the only one who took after her father, with her brown eyes and long chestnut-colored hair.  Roxana and Iona had been blue-eyed blondes like their beautiful mother Cythera; Mariana and Kassandra were mini-versions of them.  Technically, the Naxen sisters were second cousins to the remaining Contés, although the relation was through the King Jonathan's mother.  Because of this, Katerene would be recognized as rightful duchess of Naxen, throwing the rules of primogeniture out the door for the future king's cousin.

            "So," Katerene began coldly.  "I see you finally wed Marius.  Hardly the idyllic life that once awaited you."

            "I've learned to make sacrifices.  You will find, Your _Grace_, that freedom in this world is just as hard, if not worse, than life in prison.  It was made apparent that we are no longer able to stay here this morning when Prince Jasson, La--I mean _Princess_ Alianne, and myself were almost killed by men surely hired by the Assembly.  This is about as real as it gets."

            The duchess wrinkled her nose.  "Yes, I had heard that little half-blood twit married Prince Liam.  Never would have happened under different circumstances."

            "That 'half-blood twit' will one day be your _queen_, you pathetic little ingrate," an angry voice snapped from th e doorway, "and you will do well to remember that."

            Lianne and Aly had arrived, the latter looking dangerously furious, although Katerene was unfazed.  "You, queen?  Ha!  When pigs fly, my lady.  When pigs fly."  Mariana and Kassandra slipped unnoticed out of the room and away from the potential catfight, presumably to find Gwendolyn and Elara.  

            "Stop this at once!" Lianne snapped, stepping into the middle of the room.  "By the Goddess, you've all been like this since the convent, and we were _eleven_ then!  Don't you think, now that we're grown women, we can but our petty differences behind us and attempt to get along?  For everyone's sake?"

            Cecila nodded, looking ashamedly at the floor.  Katerene and Aly continued to glare daggers at each other, until the princess cleared her throat significantly.  Both hesitated and then nodded reluctantly.  It seemed a shaky sort of truth had been forged, albeit an extremely fragile one.

A/N: Now, I don't normally do this, but I wanted to address one thing from the reviews: yes, I have read the _Trickster's Choice_ excerpt on Tammy's site.  I'm a member of Sheroes...how could I not have?  There was a ginormous thread on it at the beginning of the summer (or was it later than that?...I can't remember).  Concerning the excerpt, I really didn't like it very much, but then again, I hated the first few chapters of _Lady Knight_ and _Squire_ too.  I definitely am still looking forward to it, since I've heard from those lucky bastards with Advanced Reader copies (excuse the language...I'm just jealous) that it's a really, _really_ good book.

In this fic, I'm totally acting as if _Trickster_ never really happened.  I needed _one_ of Alanna and George's children in my story, and I don't really know enough about Alan yet to build a strong character for him.  Plus, I've liked Alianne ever since I first heard Tammy's plans to write books about her a few years ago.  And Thom was, well, dead.  Poor him.  At least he was beheaded, and not burned alive like his parents.  Quick and painless.  Whoa, I'm starting to get kind of morbid here.  Eeek!


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